Warning: Explicit sexual content in this one plus some angst...


That week they worked the whole Saturday, because they caught another case late on Friday – a kidnapping, which had started with the murder of servant at the house of the victim, hence the involvement of the homicide team. Fortunately, it turned out to be a clear cut, or rather Jane turned it into a clear cut, revealing the perp already on Saturday night due to some peculiarities no one but him had spotted in the victim's home, which had led to an immediate arrest and the healthy return of the abducted woman.

It had been a high profile case because the victim had been a senator's daughter, and since the man obviously was a close friend of Bertram, there'd been a press conference on Sunday morning, where Jane, to his utter dismay, had been forced to accept the public gratitude and a generous check for the CBI from the politician. Even Director Bertram himself had been all smiles towards their consultant for once and had shaken his hand eagerly in front of the cameras.

So when they finally made it home on Sunday just after noon, Patrick was already thoroughly disgruntled and they had their first major fight. Teresa insisted she would drive him to a hospital after a quick shower, so he could have the bandage on his arm changed, while Patrick made it clear he wouldn't see a doctor and that it had already been a week since his injury and he had only been asked to have it looked at for the first five days. She pointed out that he'd been stupid enough to re-injure himself on Wednesday and that the five days had started anew because of that. And it had only gone downhill from there.

He told her to mind her own business and that she wasn't a doctor anyway, and she called him a stubborn, immature idiot who couldn't even look after himself. He called her a domineering control freak and made it clear he didn't need or want a mother and that she should go and nag someone else for a change like her brothers, who obviously appreciated it just as much as he did.

He regretted his vicious words the moment he uttered them and tried to apologize profoundly at once, but the damage had already been done. She was so hurt, so furious, she actually slapped him in the face strong enough for his nose to start bleeding.


They stood in front of each other afterwards, both shocked beyond words about the escalation. Teresa stomped up the stairs and barricaded herself in the bedroom. He cleaned himself up a bit at the kitchen sink and left the apartment to cool down.

He walked around for two hours and made a trip to the hospital to have his arm re-bandaged out of remorse as well. As usual, he started to blame himself for the whole fight immediately and only the memory of her asking him to always remember how much she loved him had stopped him from the imminent conclusion that this would be the final straw that broke the camel's back.

He was still afraid of going back and facing her, and like a coward he sat on the steps in front of her apartment for hours, not finding the courage to enter. She was the one to finally call him on his cell phone, asking were the hell he was. When he told her, she opened the door and stood before him shaking her head in exasperation.

"Come on in, wimp," she told him, and he followed her inside with slumped shoulders and hanging head, looking like a wretch. She decided to let him off the hook at the sight of it and initiated a reluctant hug, which he returned fiercely.

"We need to talk," she said afterwards. "Sit down on the couch, I'll make tea."

He nodded and followed her orders, fearful of what she would have to say and expecting the worst.

She came back with a whole tea service including a plate with chocolate cookies and asked, "What was this all really about, Patrick?" while preparing him a cup the way she knew he liked it.

"I honestly don't know, Teresa. I'm truly sorry I said those awful things." He looked at her with sad and serious eyes. "I know I betrayed your trust, using such a tender point you've entrusted me with against you like this. I don't know what came over me." He looked down again shamefully. "I didn't even mean it. I'm… I mean, I actually like it, that you look out for me like this." He played nervously with his fingers before he added quietly, "Even though you're a tiny bit too fussy sometimes."

She sat down on the sofa beside him, took a hold of one of his jittery hands and started to draw calming circles on the back of it with her thumb. "I was a bit bossy, I admit that. I know you're an adult and that I have to respect your decisions. But somehow when it comes to your health, you're so damn stubborn and unreasonable. It irritates the hell out of me." She cast him a huffy look at that. Her other hand then came carefully up to his slightly swollen cheek, caressing it very tenderly. "And I'm truly sorry for slapping you. That was really unforgivable. I don't ever want to have that kind of violence in our relationship, Patrick."

He interrupted her at that point. "But I deserved it, really. Don't worry, it's no big deal."

She looked at him sadly and shook her head then. "No, Patrick. It's totally unacceptable and inappropriate. No matter what you might have said and how much you hurt me with it, violence should never be the answer. I'll have to work on that."

"But…" he tried to object.

"No, love. There's really no 'but' here. Just because we've both been victims of physical violence during our childhood doesn't mean we have to continue in this pattern. I'm ashamed of myself. I never want to be like that, lashing out when the emotional pain gets to be too much." She locked eyes with him at that point and tried to convey her seriousness. "I don't want to become my father, Patrick. I AM NOT like my father, but today I behaved a lot like him and I don't like it at all."

"Okay, maybe what you did wasn't right, Teresa. But I forgive you. I know I have a way with words, and they can hurt more than slaps. That's violence, too, love. And you're the last person I want to hurt." He cupped one of her cheeks gently as well and looked at her with honest regret and a deep yearning. "Do you… I mean, can we put this behind us? Can you forgive me, please?" he pleaded.

She leant in for a kiss and whispered against his lips, "I already have, Patrick," before she closed the last gap between them and pressed her mouth against his, her tongue pushing for entrance at once. He welcomed her eagerly and they made out on the couch for a while, both incredibly relieved they'd survived their first real quarrel as a couple.


Later they shared some freshly brewed tea and she made another attempt to find out why he'd reacted so negatively to her suggestion to see a doctor. She took one of his hands and intertwined their fingers and inquired, "Patrick? Will you tell me where this deep distrust and fear of doctors comes from? Maybe if I knew, we could avoid situations like today in the future."

"It wasn't only that. I was already on edge because of this damn PR-stand Bertram pulled on us. That man makes me want to destroy something whenever he steps in front of a camera, or in general to be honest. And all that hand-shaking and smiling and him pretending I was his golden boy, though we both know he hates my guts – especially since our little hanky-panky with the FBI. Ick!" His face showed his utter disgust, making her chuckle. "I guess you just added insult to injury – or in this case, injury to insult." He grinned. "Sorry, bad pun."

She nodded. "Yes, I knew you were a bit grumpy and I shouldn't have pushed you like that. I should at least have given you some time to calm down. I'm aware of your dislike of anything connected to medical facilities after all." She squeezed his hand. "Which brings me back to my initial question. Would you please trust me with the real reasons?"

Patrick sighed deeply. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" She shook her head. "This is not an easy topic for me, Teresa," he started his explanation. Then he fixed himself another cup of tea and sat back on the couch, pulling his flexed legs up, spanning them with his arms, one hand balancing his tea mug on one of his knees, so his extremities would act as some kind of protective shield. That was at least the way Lisbon construed the pose. She sat back as well and put one of her arms around his shoulder, her hand gently playing with the short curls at his neck. It was a rather awkward position for her with him being so much taller than her. But at that moment it was the only way to have any kind of physical contact with him.

And then he told her with an almost detached voice about one chapter of his life he was very much ashamed of. Of his total break-down six months after the murder of his family. How he'd spent the first half year in Las Vegas – she'd flinched at that – in a state not unlike his latest sojourn there. And how things had come to a head when he'd watched a family very much like his own on the day that had marked the half-anniversary of Angela's and Charlotte's death.

The mother, father and daughter had enjoyed a picnic at a park in the sunny weather and he'd walked up to them, pestered them, trying to sit with them on their blanket, scaring the girl in the process, until the parents had threatened to call the police. He'd told them he didn't care and that he wanted to die anyway because he'd killed his family.

He'd broken down into hysterical crying afterwards and the father had guided him away and called an ambulance. The worried and kind man had told the paramedics that he was obviously suicidal and from that moment on he'd been kept restrained and sedated almost constantly. What he could remember from that time was having been trapped permanently inside the nightmares in his head because of the drugs, and his panicked fighting against the straps on his arms whenever he'd been able to regain even the slightest bit of consciousness, which always led to him being pumped full of psychotropics once again.

Patrick was moving his torso back and forth in a nervous gesture during his whole tale. His eyes were distant and pain-filled, silent tears escaping them, and Teresa's heart reached out to him. She continued to gently caress his sensitive neck, hoping to ground him a bit.

Composing himself a little, he then told her about feeling utterly helpless and out of control. He confessed to her how very close he'd been to really losing his mind at that point. Fortunately, Sophie Miller had taken over his case after two weeks of this horror. She'd put him off the drugs apart from some anti-depressants and he'd slowly come back to reality after that.

With eyes full of shame he entrusted her with further details. That Sophie hadn't even knocked him out again when he'd painted his nightmares on the wall of his hospital room in his own blood. She'd appeared to him like a saving angel at the time and today he was rather sure that had been the deciding factor for his trust in her. In hindsight, he was realistic enough to admit that he wouldn't have been quite as open for her counseling had the circumstances been different. But she'd actually managed to help him back on his feet.


At this point in his tale, he relaxed his body enough so Teresa was able to pull him into an embrace. It ended with him sitting sideways on the couch with his legs outstretched and her sitting on his lap, straddling him, holding him close, his head pressed against her chest, with her hand tousling his hair.

After a while, he continued to speak, very quietly, his ear resting on the left side of her torso, the sound of her heartbeat calming him. He told her that after some very serious thinking during the last days he realized that Sophie hadn't done such a great job after all. She should have figured out that it hadn't been such a splendid idea to release someone out of her care and into the public whose only newfound reason for living had been the thought of taking revenge. Who'd in fact only transformed a part of his fundamental self-hatred and suicidal thoughts into an unhealthy obsession for vengeance.

But he had to admit that she would've had a hard time seeing through his act. The minute he'd regained control of his mind again, he'd played the psychiatrist. He'd said and done exactly what she had wanted to hear and see. Had been a model patient, especially because he'd been scared to death they might've start sedating him again if he hadn't done exactly as he had been told.

Patrick and Teresa made love on the sofa afterwards, very slowly and gently, and she thanked him profoundly for his openness and trust, and especially for his remarkable leap of faith when he'd allowed her to cuff him to the bed a few days earlier. She first now really understood what this must have cost him, and she felt honored and awed by it. Only then did it dawn on her why he'd been so utterly vulnerable and anxious about his mental state on that Friday night just over a week ago, when she'd restraint him the first time. It explained his near panic attack all too well.

"I trust you, Teresa," he whispered in her ear during slow thrusts into her core. "You're the only person I trust," he confessed. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Patrick. And I'll never nag you about seeing a doctor again," she answered breathlessly, close to coming.

He stopped his movements then, keeping her on edge. "I don't want you to change who you are, Teresa. Never do that. I don't want you any other way, even if you might annoy me with being too fussy once in a while." He touched her clit very lightly with one of his fingers, increasing her arousal until she could barely stand it but not enough to push her over. She was nearly incoherent when he ordered, "Promise me you won't change, Teresa." In her state, she was only able to nod helplessly and he both thrust into her and touched her directly afterwards, making her explode and see stars.

When she regained her faculties again, she scolded him a bit for playing her like that. "You know that nothing I say in such a state can ever be used against me, don't you?"

He only chuckled and proceeded to promptly arouse her again, still buried deep inside of her. "I don't expect this to go to court, my dear. So I'm feeling rather safe right now."

She moaned loudly, both cursing and loving him for his ability to manipulate her like this. "You're going to kill me, Jane, I'm sure of it. You're entirely too good at this," she pressed out between groans.

He told her that she was still much too coherent for his taste and drove her absolutely crazy once again, until she turned into a boneless mass around him.

When she'd recovered this time, she continued to pretend she was still out. Using the element of surprise, she then suddenly flipped them over to get on top of things. "Two can play that game, Jane," she threatened him. She knew of course that if he really wished to do so he was able to turn the tables again in no time, but he readily let her take over.

It still amazed her how willingly he surrendered the control to her. After all she'd learned about him during the last week, she'd gained a great understanding for his constant distrust and his urge to be on top of things at all times – or maybe not all the time, considering where she was at that very moment.

She started to push all of his buttons then and he turned into putty in her hands very quickly. Deciding that payback was indeed a bitch, she left him wanting at the last moment and asked him, "Now Patrick, tell me: how was sex with Angela?"

The poor man gazed at her in complete bewilderment, panting for breath. "What?" he finally cried out.

"Sex, Patrick, with your wife. How was it?" she inquired once more.

He gained at least a bit more control of his faculties when he stammered helplessly, "Have you…lo… lost your mind, Teresa? Are you really…. I mean, do you honestly… Now? You… you're asking me this now? Seriously? I… I can't… I… I'm sorry."

Lisbon snickered evilly at that point and whispered in his ear, "Revenge IS sweet, Patrick," before finally making him come.

When he started to cry afterwards, she turned remorseful though. She thought she'd pushed him too far and apologized. But he only pulled her into a deep kiss and told her afterwards, "Don't worry. I'm just so happy. I never thought it could ever be like this again. That I'd be lucky enough to find this a second time." He cupped her face and looked deeply into her eyes, "In a way it was a lot like this, Teresa. My wife, she was just as playful as you are. She never let me get away with anything. But it was completely different at the same time. Just like you two in general: both strong and stubborn and beautiful, but still so unique, each of you." And very earnestly he added, "But that's as far as I'll ever get to comparing you. Never force me to do that. It wouldn't be fair to either of you. I love you both, with all my heart, but she is my past and you are my present and my future. And I'm a different man as well today."

"You're still essentially the same man, Patrick. But I understand what you mean. Thank you for your honesty and, once again, for your openness. You didn't need to tell me. I only wanted to shock you a bit, truth be told. I never even expected you to answer," she admitted a bit sheepishly.

"And it was nicely played, Lisbon. Nicely played indeed." He chuckled. "I've taught you well."


"Patrick?" she started a while later.

"Hmh?"

"You played a very dangerous game when you returned to Vegas. You do know that, don't you? Because from what I know about your state right now, you weren't too far from a real breakdown when you left. It could very well have ended in an even greater disaster, and with all those old memories to boot…" She shook her head and frowned.

"But that was the beauty of it, Teresa. He's kept track of me ever since he killed my family. He knows what happened there the first time around. In many ways, he's actually quite predictable. He even gave me the exact six months of my first stay, before he made contact. That's what I counted on and it worked like a charm," he explained with pride.

She huffed at that. "You're an idiot, Jane. It very nearly cost you your sanity, not to mention your life. Fortunately something like that won't ever happen again because I'd drag you back by your ear."

"You would, wouldn't you?" he replied with a happy grin.

"Kicking and screaming, the whole way if necessary," she confirmed with determination, warmth and love shining from her eyes.

And that had been the end of their first real fight and they spent the small rest of their Sunday just lazing around, cuddling and talking about this and that.


TBC

So, they survived their first real fight. I hope, you found this to be believable and not too much out of character. Don't hesitate to let me know either way... Thanks for your continued support